Blood, Lust
by HarlequinEnigma896
Summary: When Roxy, a musical waitress, is chosen by Pavi Largo as the lead in the new Genetic Opera, she suspects that she was selected for more than just her voice. What will happen when Pavi proves her suspicions correct? Dark, obviously.
1. Prologue

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**_Hey, guys! So, I've been a fan of Repo! for quite some time now, but this is the first story I've ever written for it. I just started writing it a little while ago, but I couldn't stop myself from putting up the prologue. The first and second chapters are done, and should be up within the next few days._**

**_You may be wondering, why Pavi? Well, he's one of my favorite characters from Repo!, and although I adore Graverobber, he's got a lot of stories written about him already. In other words, Pavi was a natural choice._**

**_I hope you enjoy the prologue! It's not much, but it certainly sets the stage for the story to continue. I'd love to hear what you think!_**

**Disclaimer: Repo! the Genetic Opera is the property of Terrance Zdunich and Darren Smith. I own nothing.**

* * *

**_Blood, Lust_**

* * *

_Prologue_Paviche Antonio Largo stood at his window, holding back one of the heavy velvet drapes in order to see out from behind his stolen face. He didn't know what he had expected; a clear night sky filled with stars? Instead, he saw rain droplets hitting the glass in a steady stream, flashes of lightening proving to be one of the only natural sources of illumination that could ever be found on Sanitarium Isle. The perpetually darkened sky was the same as ever; thick and inky in its blackness, but in a way that suited Pavi just fine. After all, he had always been a night person.

* * *

A quiet rapping at the door notified Pavi of a visitor. "Come in." He welcomed, just loudly enough for whoever it was to hear. The door opened, revealing Giuseppe Borelli, Rotti's cousin and most trusted advisor.

"_Buona sera_, Giuseppe." Pavi greeted, stepping away from the window.

"Good evening, Pavi." Giuseppe returned, entering the room and closing the door behind him. "I must say, I am quite surprised that you're alone this evening. Are the genterns proving to be less…_stimulating_, of late?"

Pavi grimaced at his words. Ever since the last opera, he had found that his libidinous urges were less potent; still very much present, but they did not demand as much attention. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something had changed his wildly active sex life. Perhaps, just perhaps, the loss of his father had affected him more than he had cared to admit.

"Did you-a come just-a to talk about the Pavi's sexual activities," He began, raising an eyebrow. "Or is there another reason that you are here, _mi parente_?"

Giuseppe gave a chuckle. "You're absolutely right. I came to speak with you about…a matter of critical importance."

"And-a what is that?"

"GeneCo's influence on the public," He stated, his expression turning dour. "Ever since the last opera, GeneCo has seen a drop in sales; we have been robbed of our best way of promoting business."

Pavi remained quiet for several moments, considering the other man's words. "This is very true, but I am not in charge of the company. If you want help, you will have to talk to _mi sorella, capisce_?"

"Don't be like that, Paviche. We both know that Amber is a useless, zydrate-addicted zombie," Giuseppe hissed. "And she hardly has your…_artistic flair_."

"So, what are you-a suggesting, Giuseppe?" Pavi asked, growing interested.

"I am suggesting that you take over responsibility as both director and producer of the new and improved Genetic Opera." Giuseppe answered. Pavi's eyes widened.

"You're-a serious?" He prompted guardedly.

"Absolutely; we just need to find a new diva of equal talent as Mag." The older man confirmed, referencing the dearly-departed opera singer.

"That is-a no small task."

"I am aware…which means that we should start auditions as soon as possible."

Pavi tore his eyes away from his late father's advisor in order to gaze into the fireplace. The flames flickered and swirled sensually, as though they were a portent of the pleasure that Pavi would gain from accepting this proposal.

"Alright," Pavi agreed, nodding once. "I will do it."


	2. Schism

**_Disclaimer: All song lyrics and titles are the property of their respective owners, not me._**

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* * *

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**_"There was a time that the pieces fit, but I watched them fall away."_**

**_Chapter 1: Schism_**

* * *

Roxy sat at the grand piano, a frown on her face. She pulled the pencil from behind her ear, pressing it against the page of sheet music before her. She moved it back and forth, crossing out an existing note and changing to a new one. She opened her mouth, emitting a clear, lovely high note before stringing the improved verse together. _There_, she thought, _much better._

Her eyes drifted to the antique wall clock to her left; _five thirty o'clock_. She had to be at _Ashmore's_ to for her job as a waitress in an hour and a half. Roxy made a mental note to leave the house by 6:30; _Ashmore's_ was the favored restaurant/nightclub of Sanitarium's elite, and she doubted that her new boss, Gemma Ashmore, would appreciate her being late after having only worked there a week.

Roxy sighed at the thought of beginning a new job. Her mind wandered back to a time when she hadn't had to worry about her employers. She recalled her late parents, Horatio and Desiree, and the music shop they'd owned. It was where she had spent her childhood. She remembered her sister, Isabella, playing the piano while she sang in the back room, their parents teaching lessons and selling instruments and sheet music. She could never have imagined herself happier.

Everything had changed when both of her parents had succumbed to organ failure, having chosen to die rather than to enter into a contract with GeneCo. Roxy and Izzie had been devastated, having lost both their beloved parents and their cherished music shop in one fell swoop.

Since then, Izzie had finished her schooling and gone on to become a SurGEN. She made a fair deal of money, but not enough to support the two of them as well as her…_extracurricular activities._

Almost as though her thoughts had been a summoning, Roxy heard the door to the apartment swing open, announcing Izzie's return.

"Hey, Izz!" She called, welcoming her sister home. Izzie moved clumsily through the apartment, a complacent grin on her face. It was painfully obvious that she'd a decently sized dose of Z.

"Evening, baby sister," The older girl greeted. "Watcha playing?"

"A lullaby," She answered, returning her glance to the sheet music. "An old Irish one that mom taught us."

Izzie stepped closer to the piano, her eyes running over the page. "_This_ song? You haven't played it in _years_."

"I know. That's why I'm playing it now." Roxy replied, poising her fingers to continue. Izzie moved forward, turning outwards and leaning against the piano while her sister finished the song. Towards the end, she gave a loud yawn, earning her a glare from Roxy.

"Where'd you get the zydrate from this time?" She questioned once she had finished singing.

Izzie grinned at the mention of her favorite drug. "Does it matter?"

"Well, yeah, Izz, it kind of does. We all know what Amber would do if she found out that someone had been stealing from her _personal_ stash." Roxy said coldly.

"_Relax_, Roxy. I got this stuff from Graverobber." She assured her, spinning maladroitly into the middle of the room.

"Alright, fine." Roxy grumbled. She had encountered Graverobber on several occasions; he hadn't failed to make use of his famed charm on any of them.

"So, what time do you have leave for work?" Izzie inquired, sitting next to her on the piano bench.

"At…" Roxy trailed off, glancing to the clock. _5:58_. "Now. _Crap_." She muttered, standing and running into her bedroom. She stripped out of her shorts and tank top and slipped into her black, off-the-shoulder work dress. The garment barely reached the middle of her thighs, proving that Sanitarium's upper class citizens were no more prudish than those of any other class. Stepping in front of her vanity mirror, Roxy picked up her brush, running it through her hazelnut colored hair. Brushing it could be a chore at times; it was long and lightly curly, reaching down to her waist. Setting down her brush, Roxy picked up a rubber band, pulling her hair into a low ponytail.

"It's three minutes after six!" Izzie called in a taunting voice. Shooting a mental insult at her sister, Roxy slipped into a pair of black kitten heels. She grabbed her purse, walking quickly out of her bedroom.

"Have a clean rest of your night, Izz." She told her before exiting the apartment. She ran past the elevator, instead using the stairs. She rushed outside, smiling at the doorman briefly before she slowed down, walking to the bus stop. It took about three minutes for it to show up, as it generally had no reason to speed; hardly anybody used Sanitarium's public transportation system. Roxy boarded the bus, pulling out a handful of change and paying her due before taking a seat near the front. Only two other people sat behind her; one was an obvious scalpel slut, and the other was a z'd up Goth kid.

It took about fifteen minutes for the bus to stop at _Ahsmore's_ and by that point, Roxy was the only person remaining on the bus. She hopped off quickly, making her way around the back of the building and entering through the kitchen.

"Hey, Roxy!" The head chef, Luke Preston, called. He had taken to her immediately, telling her that she reminded him of his daughter.

"Hey, Luke!" She returned, walking to where the aprons hung. She pulled one down, tying it around her narrow waist. She moved out of the kitchen and to the host's stand, checking to see if any tables in her section were filled.

"Roxy!" A voice called, prompting her to spin around. Gemma stood before her, a lighter in her hand, blonde hair pulled up in a bun, looking smart in a pinstripe pant-suit. "Thank God you're here early. I need you to prepare some tables near the stage. The club is reserved for tonight."

"Oh. Yes, of course," Roxy said, stepping away from the host's stand. "What's going on?"

"Pavi Largo has booked it for some kind of audition."

Roxy's eyes widened. It was common knowledge that _Ashmore's _was a favorite haunt of all the Largo's, but Roxy had yet to see any of them in person.

"Okay." She said with a nod, accepting Gemma's offering of the lighter. She pulled a basket of napkins and silverware from the host's stand, moving into the more intimate half of the nightclub. She set the basket down on the table before picking up a small candle in its votive, setting flame to the wick. A wave of heat kissed her fingertips, urging her to continue lighting candles. She made quick work of them, placing napkins and silverware at each seat along the way. She glanced over the room once before picking up her basket and returning it to its proper place.

By that point, all of the other waitresses had made it there, and were getting a rundown from Gemma.

"I want all of you girls to be on your best behavior tonight; I don't want to upset Mr. Largo in any way. He should be here at any minute, and I'm going to greet him, so just stay where you are until we start getting him settled in, okay?"

A chorus of "yes ma'm's" and "okay's" met Gemma's speech, and she nodded once, satisfied. Roxy fell into line with the others, standing on the end. She could hear a flurry of voices outside of the club, most of them female. Gemma moved forward, pausing before opening the door.

"Crystal, Ellie, Anya, and Vanessa, come here. You're going to be taking all of the auditioners to their seats." She ordered. The four girls were quick to act, standing to the left of the door.

Once Gemma opened the door, a crowd of women nearly flooded the lobby. The four waitresses herded them all to tables, except for the one closest to the stage. Their chattering and laughter drowned out most sound, and Roxy found it grating ever so slightly on her nerves.

After the women were all seated, a group of men entered…led by none other than Pavi Largo.


	3. Paralyzer

**_"I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you."_**

**_-Finger Eleven_**

**_Chapter 2: Paralyzer_**

* * *

Roxy drew in a sharp breath at the sight of him. She had seen him countless times on television and in magazines, but nothing could have prepared her for being in his presence.

He was beautiful and…terrifying; seductive, yet repulsive. She could feel the weight of his reputation pressing down on her; he _murdered_ women for their faces, yet he was Sanitarium's own Casanova.

Though she didn't know, as of yet, how she felt about him, she let herself take in his appearance; his black, shoulder length hair, the pale face of a dead woman, his waistcoat and charcoal silk shirt, and his icy blue eyes…eyes that were now staring at her with a certain light in them. Feeling a blush creep into her cheeks, Roxy looked away, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"Hello, Mr. Largo," Gemma began, extending a hand. "It's wonderful to see you again."

Roxy felt the heat of Pavi's gaze melt away, and she looked up to see him kissing the back of Gemma's hand. "A pleasure, _signora._" He returned in his heavy Italian accent. Several of the waitresses beside Roxy visibly swooned, each of them taken with Pavi.

"Is there anything we can do for you before you're seated?" Gemma questioned.

Pavi looked for a moment as though he were considering. "Yes, actually," He replied, looking past Gemma. He began to move forward, closer to the waitresses. Roxy kept waiting for him to stop, but he didn't. Instead, he moved until he stood right in front of her. She froze as he placed a hand under her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

"What is-a your name, _mi bella_?" He inquired smoothly.

Summoning her confidence, Roxy steadied her espresso eyes on him. "Roxana Graciani." She answered in an equally smooth tone. She felt herself relax as a congenial smile lit his face.

"_Parli Italiano_?"

"_Un poco._"

This caused his grin to grow even wider. "Will you-a serve me tonight, Roxana?" He asked. Roxy looked to Gemma for an answer. She nodded in agreement, ignoring the innuendo in his words; after all, who would dare refuse a Largo?

"_Assolutamente_," Roxy responded. She faltered momentarily as he took her hand in his grasp.

"Lead the way, _cara._" He instructed, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand. This man was clearly not one to approach with subtlety.

Roxy did as she was told, guiding Pavi to the front table, his guests following close behind. They took their seats, Pavi sitting at the head of the table.

"Giuseppe," He said, causing a tall, balding man to turn around.

"Yes, sir?"

"Make-a the proper introductions, _por favore_. I will order for everyone, _si_?"

The older man nodded, straightening his tie before moving to the stage. Roxy looked on in curiosity, her gaze following him to center stage. "Good evening, ladies," He began. "Welcome to the auditions. By the end of the night-"

It wasn't until Roxy felt a hand trailing up and down her thigh that she returned her attention to Pavi.

"What can I get for you tonight, Mr. Largo?" She asked, blocking out Giuseppe and pulling out a pad of paper on which to take Pavi's order.

He pondered for a moment, resting his head on one hand while continuing to stroke her leg. "Why don't-a you pick for me, Roxana?" He finally suggested.

"You want _me_ to pick for you?" She questioned in disbelief.

"Why not? You seem-a like a woman of great taste." He explained with a grin.

"And for everyone else?"

"They will all have what I am having."

No protests fell from the mouths of his guests, so she gave a small nod.

"Alright, then. _Filetto di vitella al creama di arancia_; does that sound suitable?"

Pavi gave a low chuckle as he trailed his fingers to her hip, tracing circles as his male guests attempted to appear unnoticing. "I knew you had great-a taste." He complimented. "And-a the wine?"

"Our finest Barolo." She chimed, waiting for him to comment.

His grin seemed to turn almost predatory at her suggestion, and he leaned back in his chair. "That is a very…_sensual_ wine, _si_?"

And it was true. Roxy recalled her mother telling her stories of Piedmont; Desiree and Horatio had scrounged and saved in order to afford their honeymoon there, and, according to them both, it had been worth every penny.

"It is, Mr. Largo." She replied, attempting valiantly to keep a cool façade as his touch transferred to her forearm. She could feel the gazes of her fellow waitresses as well as her boss as they burned through her clothes and seared her flesh.

"And for dessert?" He prompted, eyes gleaming.

"Tiramisu."

He inclined his head slightly. "An appropriate selection, _mi bella_."

"Can I get you anything else before I put your order in?" She asked, drawing the smallest bit away from him. Behind them, Giuseppe called out a number, summoning the first of the many auditioners to the stage. A statuesque redhead stepped forth, taking her place before everyone. She opened her mouth and began to sing.

_Singing auditions?_ Roxy thought. _Is this for…?_

It had to have been. These girls were all there to audition to be the next star of the Genetic Opera.

The redhead's voice was undoubtedly powerful and well trained, but she didn't have the emotion necessary for the old song she sang.

Pavi merely shook his head, and she was silenced by Giuseppe. Her face contorted into a mask of disappointment, and she returned to her seat.

_What a dream it would be to sing for a living, _Roxy thought. Indeed, a dream was all it could be; Roxy had responsibilities, and she couldn't afford to let herself get caught up in radical fantasies.

Pavi's lips upon her hand shook her out of her reverie.

"No _grazzie,_ Roxana. I eagerly anticipate your-a return."

Roxy offered him a soft smile before exiting the room and returning to the kitchen. She exhaled loudly, pressing her back against the wall and closing her eyes briefly. Dealing with Pavi was proving to be quite a task; she didn't know whether to run from him or let him seduce her.

"What's wrong, Roxy?"Luke inquired. When she opened her eyes, she caught a flash of concern on his normally smiling face.

"Oh, it's nothing. It's just a little intimidating to be waitressing for one of the Largos." She admitted, leaving out key details.

Luke, however, picked up on them anyways. "Is Pavi Largo trying to put the moves on you?" He prodded.

"Well…I…" Roxy stuttered; she had attempted to invent a befitting lie, but the entire world knew of Pavi's womanizing ways. "…Yes, he is."

Luke's eyes narrowed. "Don't let him do anything you don't want him to. Why, you're a person, not a-"

"Temptress!" Gemma exclaimed, marching into the kitchen. Her expression showed that she was pleased.

"W-What?" Roxy queried, confused.

"You think I don't know? Nice job out there with Mr. Largo; he's raving about the quality of service."

"Ah."

"Did you get his order?" Gemma inquired.

"Oh, yes: veal fillet with orange cream sauce, Barolo wine, and tiramisu." Roxy pronounced. "The same goes for all of the guests at his table."

Roxy paled at her boss' next words: "Wonderful. Keep it up; we want him to be fully tantalized tonight."


	4. Angel

**_"You are my angel, come from way above...to bring me love."_**

**_-Massive Attack_**

**_Chapter 3: Angel_**

* * *

As Pavi pushed away his dinner plate, he had to admit, this night was turning out quite differently than he'd expected. Of course, he always had time for the ladies, but one _bella_ in particular seemed to be capturing his attention that evening. How…_interesting_.

Pavi often found himself favoring certain women above others, but his present circumstance stated that he should not be focused on a single female; he was in a room full of beautiful women, each of them standing up to sing for him, eager to please. One particularly enchanting waitress should not make a difference to him. He'd had the best women from all over the world, after all.

But Roxana seemed to rank up there with said ladies, and, _oh_, what a woman she was. Her long, tousled hair, her dark eyes, her virtually perfect curves, her general demeanor, and the fact that she spoke Italian, well…it all amounted to her being the most desirable woman in the establishment that evening. She would be quite enticing to anyone, and she was someone that he had not had.

_Something that I must remedy quickly, _he thought, grinning wickedly to himself.

The current performer was quite good; an ice blonde with quite a flair for coloratura, but her voice was cold and she seemed overly proud of her abilities. Pavi looked to Giuseppe, nodding his head towards the stage. It was the older man's cue to send up the next girl. Many of the ones that had gone already were quite talented, but none of them had the emotionality or the personality to truly connect with the audience; this, of course, was most important, as the Genetic Opera was, at its deepest level, a marketing tactic.

As much as it was a shame to admit, Pavi Largo was _bored_. He didn't want to listen to all these lovely women sing. He wanted to strip this Roxana of everything, to see her utterly exposed before him, to touch every inch of her creamy skin and make her feel more pleasure than she had ever felt in her life. Quite simply, he _wanted _her, and badly.

The scent of chocolate and espresso filled his nostrils, tearing him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Roxana setting a plate of tiramisu in front of him. The next girl began to sing as their eyes met, and an idea shot through his mind.

"Is there anything else I can get you, Mr. Largo?" She questioned with a smile. Pavi returned the smile, his lips stretching more widely than hers. He took her hand, clasping it in his.

"Tell me something, Roxana," he started, caressing her with his gaze.

"Anything," She replied.

"Do you sing opera?"

Roxana blinked. "Well, I…" She began hesitantly. He pulled one of his hands away from hers, reaching up to brush it against her cheek.

"Yes, _cara_?" He prompted.

"Yes, Mr. Largo. I do sing opera." She answered.

"And do you have a passion for it?"

Roxana's eyes shone at the question, and it was all he needed to know that singing was incredibly important to her.

"I do." She replied.

"Then audition to be the next star of the Genetic Opera."

She bit her lip at his words, considering silently. He knew, of course, that she would; he was Paviche Antonio Largo, and Largos always got what they wanted.

Exhaling steadily, she nodded. "Any requests?"

Pavi smirked in response. _Yes: give yourself to me, Roxana_. "I am sure that whatever you choose to sing will suit me; you've pleased me so much this evening already."

Pavi watched her with intense interest as a light flush crept to her cheeks.

"Alright, then." She agreed.

Pulling away from Roxana, Pavi cleared his throat, gaining Giuseppe's attention. The older man looked back at him, and he nodded towards the woman at his side. Giuseppe caught on instantly, and he moved from the edge of the stage to Roxana, taking her hand.

"Wait!" Pavi said, and both turned to look back at him. With a gesture, he beckoned Roxana back to him, untying her apron, letting his fingers brush against her as he did. Giuseppe took the apron in his free hand, setting it on the edge of the stage. He thanked the blonde woman, insisting that she returned to her seat. She looked offended, but did as she was told.

Once Roxana reached the stairs, Giuseppe let go of her, and she began to ascend, continuing to move until she stood at center stage. Pure excitement coursed through Pavi in that moment; the anticipation was almost intoxicating.

And then, she began to sing. She began rather quietly, but he could still hear the talent in her vocals. When her voice grew louder, however, he realized that she had a presence. Her voice was not overtly powerful and commanding like Mag's had been; Roxana's was clear and lovely, but with a pathos and intimacy that drew him in.

The song, though, however captivating it may have been, was not one that he recognized. It was mournful, melancholy, and utterly beautiful. Could it, perhaps, have been one that Roxana herself had written?

Too soon, her song ended, and Pavi found himself standing from his seat, clapping for her. The others at his table joined him, and the rest of the girls in the room began to clap as well, though, he was sure it was only to follow suit. He saw a soft smile pass over Roxana's lips; she had done well.

Once the clapping faded, he spoke up.

"Roxana," He began. "Where did-a you get that song from?"

"My mother." She responded, pressing her fingers against her lovely, pale throat. "She wrote it."

"So, you were-a raised singing opera, _si_?"

"Yes."

Pavi grinned. "It shows, _tesora._" He commended her. His gaze met Giuseppe's and he gave the older man a slow nod. Yes, she was the one. She had the emotionality and talent that the star of the Genetic Opera needed. In addition to that, Pavi was fully aware that he would practically _own_ Roxana, a prospect that he welcomed readily.

Giuseppe moved joined the delectable female on stage, resting a hand on her shoulder as he announced: "Ladies, on behalf of Mr. Largo, I would like to thank you all for auditioning. I am pleased to announce that this woman, Roxana Graciani, will be the new star of the Genetic Opera."

Oh, the look on Roxana's face. Her dark eyes had widened, her mouth opened in disbelief. Giuseppe took her hand and led her off of the stage. Pavi took several strides away from his chair, meeting them halfway. His relative transferred Roxana's hand to his, and he lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against it. He placed his other hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer to him.

"Roxana," He began, pausing as she shook her head.

"Special people get to call me Roxy." She informed him with a smile. _Roxy_. While it wasn't the most lyrical name, Pavi had to admit, it suited her.

"Very well. Roxy," He resumed. "Everything will be taken care of by tomorrow. You will have your own apartment in Largo Tower; anything that you need will be provided for you. I will assign you a chauffeur, and he will pick you up at one o'clock."

"But, Mr. Largo, I have-"

"_Shh_, _mi bella_. Everything will be taken care of," He promised. "Special people get to call _me_ Pavi; and you, Roxy, are incredibly special."


End file.
